Marga Gomez lies about her age. She even falsified her date of birth on Wikipedia, she confesses in her latest solo show, "Not Getting Any Younger." It's shocking, I know. But it's hilarious.

"Younger," Gomez's ninth autobiographical show, not counting her ongoing stand-up comedy work, opened Thursday at the Marsh, which hosted the premiere of her first solo "Memory Tricks" 22 years ago. Partly developed with Ellen Sebastian Chang, who directed an earlier workshop version at the Marsh, the new work is a wild mix of childhood memory, social satire, reflections on aging, denial of same, confession, evasion and laugh riot.

It's still a little ragged around the edges. As seen Thursday, "Younger" appears in need of a director's finishing touches, to help shape parts of the narrative, fine-tune the ending and clarify her flirtations with confessing her age. But this is Gomez at the top of her game. She seems more comfortable in her performance persona than ever. Her comic timing has never been sharper. And her satire is razor sharp.

She's in fine physical form, too, whether dancing to "The Twist" as her child self and her showgirl mother at New York's short-lived Freedomland amusement park of the early '60s; diving into a no-holds-barred wrestling match; or battling the historic Chicago fire. One sharply limned character follows another, from her baby self considering the words to "Rockabye Baby" (think about it) to a gung-ho ex-Marine presiding over a child's birthday party.

It's her eternally 21 mother who sets up the age-denial theme. "These people who can't handle the truth," she warns young Marga, "they force us to lie." Her father chips in with advice about coloring rather than plucking gray hairs.

It's all downhill from there in her struggle to come out about her age, but uphill in comic content. Gomez mines the riches of her reputation as a "pioneer" gay comic, her ill-considered childhood efforts to assist old people, the insidiousness of "ma'am," an encounter with a former lover who revels in going gray, and her resentment at having been a child when kids were supposed to be seen but not heard only to age into a period when elders are considered invisible.

A quick riff on reacting to the aged the way we do to babies had me choking with laughter. A near-homicidal exchange with a Forever 21 clerk is even more provocatively funny. Working on an almost bare stage, in black pants and a loose, striped sweatshirt, Gomez creates some of her best effects with the most minimal means, just by contorting her elastic features in an aside on face lifts.

No matter whether we end up finding out how old she is - and I wouldn't be the one to tell you if we do - "Younger" is timeless in its appeal. For the record, though, Gomez's Wikipedia entry gives her birth date as June 19, 1960. That would make her a newborn at the time of her story of visiting Freedomland and dancing to Chubby Checker's new hit.